tales for dreamers: a lighthouse marooned

No one really knows this but there was indeed a time when the lighthouse sat right by the water, serving as a beacon of hope for wandering sailors.

It flashed its light all night long, making sure no ships strayed too close to the rocks that lurked under the water near the shore.

It was a really good lighthouse, that one. In all the decades it stayed by the water, not a single ship sank.

Naturally, the rocks and the sea were not happy about this. They’d been left to starve for far too long; the rocks missed the adrenaline of destruction while the sea hungered for new wrecks to adorn her bed.

And so they did what only they could do. The sea receded bit by bit, allowing more rocks to surface and more land to establish itself around the lighthouse. Land where eventually trees and bushes grew, land that little woodland creatures came to inhabit, land in the midst of which the lighthouse was completely cut off from the water.

The lighthouse simply watched the landscape shape-shift around it. It felt a pang of regret for the ships and the sailors it’d no longer be able to save. 

But it doesn’t mourn its lot. It still shines its light brightly and proudly every night.

Because now it serves as a beacon of hope for wanderers lost in the woods.

Last week's image info: The altar to place your 'unusual offerings for unusual gods' is on a (not-so-)secret trail in LaSalle Park. Remember to take something uncommon to please them. Something that only you can offer.